


We Three Kings

by pikirachu (saintdoriangray)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintdoriangray/pseuds/pikirachu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s nothing spectacular about how their situation starts.</p><p>Girl meets boy. Girl meets boy’s best friend. Girl and boy’s best friend get along like a house on fire (sorry, Derek), and it almost feels like the start of a Disney sitcom where Kira Yukimura gets to play Hermione Granger to Stiles’ Nogitsune-Chosen One.</p><p>But the Golden Trio never frickle-frackled like this.</p><p>(Sex. So much sex. Hella sex. Sex all day.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Three Kings

Kira has always been a tactile person, fingers dancing on Scott’s chest while he rests in her lap. They’re all far too sober for three nearly-not-teenagers attempting to “just hang out” while ignoring the giant elephant in the room that they’ve all had some form of _history_. Scott and Kira’s break-up hadn’t been bad, merely practical since the Yukimuras had hauled ass to New York, and Scott and Stiles would always be Scott _and_ Stiles. Even back in high school, Kira wouldn’t ever think of breaching that (and had definitely thought on more than one occasion about _getting breached_ by that).

—Except that was so lame, Stiles must have felt how terrible that was in his own head. It would be the only reasonable explanation for why he was staring at her so much.

Or it could be the way that Scott is draped over them both—head in Kira’s lap and legs on Stiles’.

All it takes is raspberry at Kira’s bellybutton and Scott’s lips vibrate wild against her skin. She shrieks and the boys share matching grins as they pin her to the couch to attack her with tickles. It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that Stiles’ hand has gone too far up her shirt to just be touching her stomach, nor does anything bar Scott’s heightened sense of smell from inhaling the familiar sweet-musky scent of Kira’s arousal. They’ve always had an intrusive sort of intimacy with each other, leaping long before looking, but Scott doesn’t feel much like moving—not with both Kira and Stiles giggling and writhing underneath him.

They all pause for several moments too long for it to be comfortable and only the sound of Kira’s steady breathing trumps the silence. Scott can see the moment when Stiles thinks it’s a good idea to start shifting away, but Kira beats him to the punch, stilling him with a gentle touch to his arm as she rolls onto her side to face him. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

The three of them breathe together for a while in matching cadences, but Scott isn’t sure whether the energy is settling down or amping up in that time period. Probably both, his dry throat tells him. Definitely both, assures the butterflies in his stomach.

“Is this okay?” Scott doesn’t even understand necessarily what _this_ is, or what the definition of okay _should_ be, but Stiles both of those questions easily enough, burying his nose in Kira’s hair and inhaling deep. His eyes stay locked on Scott the whole time.

There’s a frenzy of limbs for one long minute as Kira’s lips crash into Scott’s, mumbling apologies and I-missed-you’s through the clash of their teeth. Stiles’ hands stayed locked in Kira’s hair, forehead occasionally bumping with Scott’s when they both go for the same side of Kira’s shoulder. It’s simply laughed off with a roll of their eyes and a pinch of skin.

Kira can feel them talking to each other through her body—Stiles pushing Kira’s arm one way around Scott and Scott tilting her head back onto him another way. They aren’t touching, but it’s easy to break the boys out of the no homo standard with just a little push. All Kira has to do is move her hips on Stiles’ lap while her lips suck hard on Scott’s neck, and it’s not long before she has both boys pushing at her front and at her back, grabbing at each other through her body. Her fingers tangle with Stiles’ in Scott’s hair, and Scott’s legs wrap much farther than needed to encase just her slight frame.

Her knees are hiked up over Scott’s elbows as he fists his hands in Stiles’ shirt, and Kira lolls her head back onto Stiles’ shoulder with a wide grin.

“Why didn’t we think of doing this before?” She keens long and loud when the boys separate enough for her ankles to cross behind Scott’s neck, and Stiles shoves a hand beneath her shirt.

“We did. We didn’t ask.” The admission is plain and simple, and Scott should’ve seen through all of Stiles’ coded questions. It had clearly been more than just living vicariously through Scott and Kira’s love life. 

Stiles’ hands move rough on Kira’s soft skin, fingernails scratching hard enough to resemble claw marks. Both their reactions at the marks snap Scott out of his reverie and he gets a wicked look on his face bends. Scott bends low to meet the flat of Kira’s pale stomach, and lowers her ankles back down. He traces the red lines with his tongue up to where Stiles’ fingers rest, taking each of them into his mouth. His lips curve around Stiles’ knuckles, one digit at a time and nobody is quite sure who moans when.

Scott’s eyes flash red for just a moment and he has to remove himself from them before it gets worse. Stiles whines at the loss, only recovering when Scott stands by him with a hand ruffling at his hair. It turns into a sharp tug at the way Stiles keens at the touch, breath coming in sharp.

“Touch her,” Scott orders, calm and stern as ever—with a bite to his tone Stiles understands as _needing_. Obedience comes naturally, following Scott blindly to the end of the earth was the only option, and this was far more appealing than anything Scott had suggested for him before.

Stiles hands reach under her shirt much more deliberately, pushing up the pliable wire of her bra. He lifts her shirt and displays her bare for Scott. Kira’s lips are dark and bruised where she’s been biting down. Scott pries her mouth open with a brief touch of his hands, an invitation for Stiles to turn her head and swallow her moans down into his throat.

Wet fingers slip into wetter heat for just a brief moment, giving Kira a taste of what Stiles could do (would do, she prays). His forearm holds her hips still against his lap, as she fights herself bucking both up into the hands pinching at her inner thigh and down to the hard length pressing up behind her. Scott watches them with hunger, bowing down to kiss Stiles on top of his head.

“Good boy.” Scott’s lips trail down the shell of his ears, his temples, his jawline. Stiles bares his neck to the side and shivers at each of the nips marking the tiny moles that speckle his skin. It seems so natural to fist his fingers in Kira’s hair and gently shove her forward, and she bends over with no resistance, completely pliant under Stiles’ hands. There’s a hard pressure to the zip of his jeans in the form of Scott’s hands—one palming the the tight denim and the other slowly thumbing at the edge of Kira’s panties under her skirt. Electricity burns through his body and Stiles is pretty sure it has only approximately 50% to do with the girl shivering in front of him.

Lazy fingers card through Kira’s hair, soothing where the hands at her thighs are tense and demanding. Her voice cracks when she begs the boys to fuck her, and it’s an immediate callback to the girl she was when she first met them—entirely unsure of how she fits.

The answer is written in stone the moment she hears the pop of a snap button and jeans unzipping behind her. She starts to twist behind her and is immediately met with a weight on her shoulders from Stiles’ hands.

“Keep her still.” There’s a gentility to Scott’s voice that masks the order and makes it more of an imperative, like it’s common sense that Kira should be completely deprived of seeing Stiles get fucked, in favor of _feeling_ Stiles whine against her skin and only hearing the in-out slick of Scott’s fingers quickly stretching him out. There’s only Scott’s name in Kira’s ears, in varying volumes as Stiles descends from pleasure into desperation.

“Fuck her.” —Another order, but it’s much more of a reward for all of them. Stiles motions to roll off for a condom, but he stops at Scott’s loving hand rubbing small circles along his hipbones. “You’ll pull out when I tell you to, and you won’t come until I tell you to. Right, Stiles? I want her to feel you when I fuck you.” He punctuates each sentence with a nip to Stiles’ ears, hands moving from hipbones to palm over Stiles’ hands. Scott guides them to Kira’s hips and gently curves his palm around Stiles’ length. The tip brushes up and down the edge of Kira’s cunt, dripping from both his and her slick.

The slow slide of Stiles’ cock settles in her bones and the walls of her muscles fight to clench around him. Scott has their thighs glued still together, unmoving as Scott himself lines up with Stiles’ entrance and pushes inside.

Stiles heaves his chest with every breath and his eyes scrunch shut, broken moans consuming Kira’s ear drums. He can feel himself getting harder inside of Kira, pushing against her cunt. Scott’s hips snap down and Kira jolts when Stiles hits her cervix.

“What did I say? _Fuck her_.” Scott thrusts forward, powering Stiles into Kira rougher and rougher with every movement of his hips. Kira braces her hands against the armrest as their thighs slap rough and uneven. The burn in her knees is superseded by the cock slamming into her.

Stiles knows he can’t hold out for much longer—not with the burn in his ass and the warmth taking him in whole, buried deep in Kira as Scott fucks him raw. Scott begs him not to come, and it’s so hard to listen, to follow this one simple direction, but he holds out, if only because Scott asked.

And merciful Scott finally gives him one reprieve, hand clenching hard around the base of his cock.

“Pull out.” His voice scratches at the back of his throat, raw from not-growling. It’s lost all of the kindness from earlier, which says nothing of the way he gently moves Stiles’ hips back and motions for Kira to turn over.

Kira’s cranes back to finally look up at the boys, resting her head down on the soft couch cushions. Stiles is a mess above her, cheeks flushed and aching to come with Scott’s hand around his cock and Scott’s thighs pressed flush to his ass. Kira’s hands reach up and Stiles bows his head, meeting her fingers halfway in an unspoken invitation. Stiles bends all the way down, chest touching the couch where Kira had been moments before. He tentatively darts his tongue out, tasting the salt and bitterness at Kira’s entrance. She twitches her hips at each flick of his tongue, bursting into a sob the moment his lips curve a circle around her clit. 

He sucks hard and she sees white. Her voice is hoarse from screaming as his tongue flicks rapidly at her clit, and his hands snake up to twist and pinch at her nipples. Scott slams hard behind him, pulsing his body with hums every time Stiles rocks back to meet him.

Stiles comes first, trapped between Scott and the cushions. He rides it out as Scott powers on, digging deep when Stiles goes tight around him. His mouth never stops moving on Kira, throaty screams muffled as vibrations between her legs, half-formed words about how fucking good Scott is, how wet Kira is for him, and how perfect they both taste.

 

 


End file.
